A Christmas Tale
by Apteryx
Summary: Peter Parker is having a terrible Christmas - Aunt May needs looking after, and he can't think of a gift for MJ! Review! *Chapter 5 up* FINISHED!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: O.K, I suck at titles, but I wanted to write a short(ish) story for the Festive Season. Enjoy! 

Cheers, Apteryx

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A Christmas Tale

Chapter One.

It was one of the snowiest and coldest Decembers that New York could remember. A real contrast to the previous summer, which had been hot and muggy in the extreme; when people wished for cooler weather, maybe some ice... Well, now they had it.

Peter Parker struggled with bags and parcels as he left the subway at Forest Hills. The blast of frozen air that hit him as he climbed the steps made him gasp - that was worse; now he had a deep lung-full of the frigid air that made him cough and his eyes start to water. Luckily, as he grabbed at a slipping parcel, half-blinded by tears, his spider-sense warned him of a patch of ice he was about to step on. As he avoided it, he thought of others who weren't so lucky; his Aunt May was one. She had slipped on some ice earlier in the week and had cracked a bone in her hip. She was doing well for her age but was mostly annoyed with herself, for inconveniencing her nephew - who had temporarily moved back in with her to look after her - and her neighbours so close to Christmas.

"Peter?"

With a sigh, Peter stopped staring out the window at the parked cars encrusted with snow, and pulled the curtains shut before he turned to face Aunt May with a smile on his face. 

"Peter?" she repeated, "I'm sorry to be such a bother to you…"

"Nonsense, how can my favourite Aunt be that? Anyway, I know you broke your hip just to make sure I'd be here for Christmas!" This was from a nephew who had never missed a Christmas with his aunt yet.

May picked up one of her crutches from where she sat in her easy chair, and waved it at him. 

"Don't be cheeky, young man. I can still wallop you good with this!"

He grinned, then tucked the lap-rug securely around her legs solicitously. Things were easier between them now that Aunt May knew the other side of him that he had kept hidden from her for all these years. He no longer had to make silly excuses to get away whenever Spider-Man was needed as he did when younger, but he still had to wait until Anna Watson or a neighbour came to visit before he slipped off. 

"I'll go put some potatoes on. Are you warm enough?"

"I'm fine, don't fuss." She pulled out some knitting from a bag. "Just turn the radio on, will you dear?"

"Sure thing."

Peter left the room.

Dinner was over and Peter was busy with the washing up. Aunt May was sitting in her arm chair again, feeling guilty that she couldn't at least help dry.

"I'll tell you what," said Peter, "You can think of a final present I can get MJ for Christmas; it needs to be something special. I've no clue…"

He finished and came and threw a couple more pieces of wood onto the fire and gave it a poke. Sparks hissed and shot up the chimney. He crouched down and stared at the flames, mind going blank, but seeing images of people from his past, some alive, some dead, flicker in and out of his consciousness. The room was quiet apart from the tiny snaps and pops from the fire, the ticking of the mantel-clock, and the click of knitting needles. Finally, May, who had been watching her nephew with a look on her face of both concern and fondness, broke the silence.

"Come away from the fire dear, It's not good for you to be so close."

Peter slowly stood up, letting his eyes, and his mind, focus on the real world once again. 

"I'm sorry, I'll try to be better company for you. Do you want to play cribbage?"

"Bah! That's an old person's game. Talk to me. When's Mary-Jane coming tomorrow?"

"About midday. I think the only reason she's seeing me is she doesn't want to upset you…"

"That wouldn't stop her. Peter, she does care for you." May said gently, "Stop blaming yourself for every little thing that goes wrong - there is such a thing as free will and determinism. You don't have to be such a solipsist."

Peter was surprised, but hid it with a grin. "Where did you learn those fancy words?"

"I've been taking senior citizen classes in Philosophy, run externally through ESU. Very interesting…"

A kiss landed lightly on Aunt May's cheek. "You're wonderful. Your turn to talk to me! Tell me what you've learnt…"

Peter settled down in the other armchair - the one that used to be Uncle Ben's chair when he was alive. Peter had avoided sitting in it for many years, but now, he felt comforted there, as if Uncle Ben had him on his knee and were telling him a story. He listened to Aunt May, seeing her eyes sparkle as she got enthused about her subject. He relaxed; he could use his time here as a brief respite from Spider-Man. After all, what could possibly threaten them at this time?

"…and next year, I'm taking Aesthetics. I've always wanted to understand modern art, and this prom…"

__

Bring. Bring… Bring

"I'll get it." Peter jumped up and went into the kitchen to answer the phone. "Hello, Parker residence. Jeeves speaking."

"Peter, is that you?"

"MJ?" He was alarmed by the slight panic he heard in her voice.

"Thank God, Peter. Peter, I'm in the Wallis Building, in Upper West Side; the power's gone, and we're stuck in the elevator. The elevator alarm doesn't seem to be working…"

"Wait, have you called the…"

"_Peter!_ My cell phone battery's running out. Listen, you have to contact Spider-Man, get him here fast. There's a woman stuck here with me - and she's gone into labour! ER won't b…._zizz crck shz._"

The phone went dead. Peter looked at the handset in horror, before slamming it down and running into the lounge.

What should he do? He should go after Mary-Jane but he couldn't leave Aunt May alone, could he? 


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: If you're at all squeamish about the whole labour and birth thing, you might like to skip the rest of this story. Don't say I didn't warn you!

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Chapter 2: 

As he swung fast through the air high above the streets and avenues of Manhattan, Spider-Man hoped he would be on time; he also hoped that the emergency services will have dealt with the trouble and he could see Mary-Jane and then head back home to Aunt May. She had been very understanding about his sudden need to depart - she had got Peter to pass her the phone while he changed, so that she could call Anna, who luckily was home and had promised to come over at once. 

Peter was all suited up as Spider-Man when she had finished her call, and he stood in front of her, feeling somewhat awkward. This was the first time she had seen him as Spider-Man, and known that it was her nephew underneath that mask.

She regarded him for a silent moment; Peter couldn't tell what she was thinking, her face was expressionless. Then she shook her head.

"It's hard to believe it's you. You look so different…"

"Yeah well, webbing does that to you - it has a very slimming effect."

"Silly, that's not what I meant," she smiled. "Now shoo and help Mary-Jane and that poor woman, and I want to hear all about it when you get back!" She raised her voice as Peter leapt up the stairs to leave through his bedroom window, like he had so many times before.

Flipping onto a roof top on West 85th, Spider-Man surveyed the scene before him. 

A fresh dump of snow the night before had left the streets still hazardous. On his way, he had noticed that traffic was even more congested than normal, but this part of 85th Street was strangely quiet. And then he saw why. A fire hydrant had been damaged, whether on purpose or by accident it was hard to tell, and the resulting spew of water had solidified to a huge sheet of ice right across the street. Cones and road barriers had been erected, warning signs placed at either end of the stretch of street between West End Ave and Broadway, but no other action to clear the ice was evident. Not many pedestrians were around either, but a few children were taking the rare opportunity to slide on the ice with make-do toboggans from cardboard boxes, having great fun. Peter grinned briefly at the sight, then turned his attention to the Wallis Building across the street. 

It was a small eight storey apartment block, built at the beginning of the Twentieth century, all red brick and iron facade. At this time of the day, it was not at all evident that the power was out. The building also appeared to be deserted; occupants mainly out at work, or shopping, Spidey guessed. 

Spider-Man shot out a webline and quickly reached the roof, and more importantly, the elevator conning. There was a small, locked door at the side, used to give maintenance workers access to the single elevator. Without hesitation, Spider-Man punched through the lock, pulled the door open and entered. It was pitch black inside the elevator shaft in contrast to the outdoors; he crawled in a short way down, then stopped briefly to let his eyes adjust to the small amount of daylight coming in through the door above him. As far as he could tell - and he could only _just_ see the top of it - the elevator car seemed to be stuck about forty feet down. 

A groaning sound, which grew in intensity to a high pitched screech, suddenly filled the shaft, echoing eerily as it died away. Spider-Man quailed slightly at the noise.

"Man o man, I sure hope that's old Phil Urich, or maybe even Shriek, but I don't think I'll be so lucky…" he murmured to himself.

But he recovered and crawled down swiftly, feeling his way over protruding outcrops of concrete and brick, noting the doors to the floors on the right-hand side of the shaft, and counting them. 

As he reached the car, he had worked out it had stopped half-way between the fourth and fifth stories. So; it would be slightly more difficult to get them out, than if it had stopped at a floor, but not too bad. He gently jumped from the wall onto the top of the elevator car, and as his fingers found the edges of the trap door panel and proceeded to pull it off, he saw a dim light from inside. He crouched down and poked his head through, just as a loud scream issued from one of the two frightened faces below.

………………………………………

Mary-Jane drummed her fingers on the floor; she hoped that Peter would arrive soonest. Although she was no trained medic, she knew enough about pregnancy and labour to know that Amelia was advancing through the first stage of labour pretty quickly. In between contractions, Amelia, a dark-haired, olive-skinned woman, admitted that she had been having niggles all morning, but had thought they were only Braxton-Hicks, 'practice' contractions, not the real thing. Now though, there was absolutely no doubting it. 

Amelia's fingers tightened again around MJ's own as she felt another one coming on. MJ wiped at her brow with a damp hanky; now she knew why she kept all that junk in her large purse.

"You're doing well honey, you're doing just fine," she told Amelia, as she watched her face contort with the pain, and another moan start.

This was bringing back painful memories of her own, of the baby she had given birth to and lost; worse than that, they hadn't had May's body returned to them, they had never been able to put a closure to their grief. Although she tried not to show it, Mary-Jane felt scared and inadequate, alone with this woman. What if the baby was stillborn too? With no proper medical care, anything could happen. 'I don't think I could cope..' thought MJ.

The grip on her hand relaxed and loosened. MJ helped Amelia up. 

"Try moving around a bit," she said, remembering her birth classes. "I know there's not much room in here, but it's got to be better than the back of a taxi," she joked.

"Thanks." Amelia gave her a wan smile and started pacing while MJ fished through her purse, searching for anything else useful. She was so grateful when the little emergency light had came on in the elevator; at least this wasn't all happening in the dark. 'Hot water and towels would be real nice right now.' She pulled out a purse pack of paper tissues and placed them next to her water bottle. Her pashmina was already laid out, ready as a receiving blanket should it come to that. 

Just then, she felt the elevator move slightly; had it started working again? No. MJ tilted her head and looked up at the ceiling close above them in anticipation and hope. 

Amelia came over to Mary-Jane and held her hand, then changed her grip and grabbed both MJ's forearms, as yet another contraction began. She looked up in panic as with a scraping noise a ceiling panel was removed and a pair of reflective white eyes peered down at them. She screamed, a mix of fear and pain.

"Spider-Man!" Mary-Jane wanted to jump up and hug him in relief. 

He lowered himself through the gap and jumped down lightly, touched MJ's shoulder in acknowledgment. 

"Which one of you wanted to go to hospital by Spidey ambulance?" 

Amelia, hearing the note of happiness in MJ's voice, and the flippancy in Spider-Man's, calmed down once her contraction had passed.

"I… I don't think I'll get there in time…" she panted, exhausted, "They're coming closer together."

"She's right," MJ turned to face Spider-Man, "And the cold out there…"

"Tell me about it! I wish I had a winter-weight outfit! What can I do to help?"

"We need towels, blankets - warmth. The worse thing would be if the baby got too cold after birth. Hot water too, if there is any. And a piece of string and scissors." 

Spider-Man grimaced under his mask, but nodded, and prepared to leave.

"Wait," said Amelia, "There's a like a sick-bay in the basement. Some of the tenants in the past have been sick and elderly…"

"Right. I'll be back soon. Just hang in there, O.K?" He sprang up and through the hole in the ceiling in one fluid motion and was gone. 

Amelia looked at Mary-Jane. "Will he be able to help? Will he be back in time?" she asked.

MJ smiled comfortingly at her, "He'll be back before you know it." 

She hoped she'd be right for once. 

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	3. Chapter 3

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A/N: This story is set in the comic-verse, where Peter and MJ are married but currently separated; and where MJ has been pregnant, but had a stillborn baby (maybe…!). 

Surprise villain too!

Cheers!

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Chapter 3.

With a sudden heave that could have looked almost like panic to any observer who happened to be watching, Spider-Man pushed apart the elevator doors that led to the fifth floor, just as another unearthly wail began echoing up the shaft again. He'd go and find the stuff MJ needed, then see if he could carry the woman into one of the apartments on this floor - it _had_ to be more comfortable than the floor of an elevator car. He didn't doubt MJ's assessment of the situation, and swiftly found the stairs opposite the small elevator lobby. Some natural light filtered in through narrow rectilinear glass; enough to light his way as he shot out some webbing and swung down the middle of the stair well. In an instant he reached the first floor, only to discover that the stairs did not continue down to the basement. 

"There must be stairs down somewhere, perhaps further back inside…" Leaving the daylight behind him, Spidey followed the lobby where it divided around the side wall of the elevator, and down a small corridor to the service area of the building. He could rely on his spider-sense not to trip over anything in the dark, but he could also pass the door to the stairs; he lifted his top slightly and turned on his spider-signal, attached to his belt. Immediately the area was lit up with an eerie red glow that bounced along the walls and floor as Spider-Man moved along. 

"I could be a real hoot at parties - I come with my own disco light!" 

He found a door with 'Basement' written on it, and quickly went down. Three more doors confronted him at the bottom; none was labelled, and all were locked. Spider-Man was not happy, and became unhappier after he smashed the lock on the first door and his spider-sense began tingling. 

"Oh great, I must've set off an alarm or something."

The first thing he noticed in the light of his signal as he entered, was that this room was not the sick-bay; the second was something glinting golden out the corner of his eye. Just before his spidey-sense intensified and before he could bring himself to actually react to it, something _very_ hard slammed into him from the side.

…………………………………………………..

Meanwhile, Mary-Jane wasn't very happy either. 

Amelia was in great pain with her labouring, and there was not a single thing MJ could do to relieve it. The best she could do - offering herself as support, talking to her, rubbing her back, offering sips of water - she felt was inadequate. Amelia was doing all the hard work.

The contractions were coming on so thick and fast, that Amelia didn't have time to recover from each one before the next arrived. Mary-Jane could tell it wouldn't be long now before the first stage was over. MJ wiped her own forehead, and pushed her hair back behind her ears. She had taken her coat off, she felt over-hot even with the cold. At this point, Amelia was dressed only in a top with a cardigan over her shoulders - she didn't seem to care about the temperature, clothing, or lack of it. All she was concentrating on were her contractions. 

"I don't think I can take much more of this…" she whispered, her black hair lank and sticking to her face. MJ gently smoothed it away.

"You're doing fine, not much longer now."

Sure enough, with the next contraction MJ thought Amelia was about to pass out, the scream went on for so long without a breath being drawn. When it was finished, Amelia sagged against Mary-Jane, absolutely wasted with the effort. They waited together, MJ tense, for the next one to start. 

Nothing happened. 

A minute passed; two minutes, then three, and still nothing. Amelia didn't seem to care; she was obviously happy to have any sort of respite from the pain. But Mary-Jane began to worry. Had something gone wrong?

"Come on, come on…" she muttered under her breath. Where _was_ Peter?

………………………………………………….

Spider-Man rolled and leapt up for the ceiling, clinging there while he got a look at what had hit him. He almost let go in surprise.

"Moltie!"

Mark Raxton, aka the Molten Man, stood revealed in the light from Spidey's signal. Spider-Man breathed a sigh of relief. 

"If I'd known it was you behind the door I'd have knocked first." He jumped down from the ceiling to land beside Raxton. "So, what brings you to this neighbourhood?"

"None of your business!" growled Raxton.

"Hey, I was only trying to be friendly. Anyway, I hate to chat and run, but I've got an emergency on my hands…" Spidey turned to go out the door, but suddenly leapt out of the way, as his spider-sense warned him of another blow on the way.

"Hey!" he protested, flipping further into the room, "What gives? We're on the same side now, remember?"

"Not any more, we aren't. Not since I discovered the plans the government had in store for me. My skin may be impervious, but my heart isn't."

"Are you _kidding_ me?"

"I don't kid."

Spider-Man watched as Raxton charged him, then at the last possible moment, flipped into the air and at the same time turned his spider-signal off. No point in giving Raxton the slightest advantage…

He didn't want to spend time fighting - he had to get back to MJ. Quickly and quietly, he crawled along the ceiling above Raxton's head, and through the door. He had to try and open one of the other doors as silently as he could, and hope like hell that Moltie wouldn't hear, and that the room was the one he wanted.

He tried the door on the left.

__

'plink' Spidey flicked out the lock with his thumb and finger, opened the door and caught the lock before it hit the ground. Not daring to turn his signal back on again for illumination, he instead relied on his spidey-sense to avoid bumping or crashing into anything. 'What is Moltie doing here, and what's all that crap about imperviousness?' he thought. Spidey felt the form of a bed in front of him. Great - sheets and blankets. Quickly he stripped the bed and bundled the bedding up. Leaving it on the bed, he found a counter with drawers and cupboards along one wall, and by feel alone, tried searching through them for scissors and some sort of thread. 

"Geez, this is impossible, even with spider-powers…" he muttered under his breath.

He was going to have to chance a little light. Making sure the door to the room was closed, Spider-Man turned his spider-signal on again.

There, what was that? In the second drawer down, Spidey found a pair of scissors. Still no luck with the string. He pushed the scissors into the middle of his bundle, and looked around. What was this place? More than a sick bay; oxygen and gas tanks in the corner, high glass-fronted cabinets with chemicals, test-tubes, beakers and bunsens on the counter top, and - surely not - an encinctulating multi-channel incubator and furnace? Spider-Man kept opening cupboards, continuing to search. A hot water bottle! How long had the power been off? Spidey turned on a hot faucet above a basin, and waited for the water temperature to change. The sound of the running water sounded unnaturally loud to his ears; it also brought home to him the passing of time. He shivered, only partly with the cold. A small wisp of steam began to curl up from the stream of water. Spidey gave it a few more seconds to get really hot, then filled the bottle up, and stoppered it. He turned off the tap and stuffed the bottle into the bedding as well. 

'String. If I were a ball of string, where would I hide? In the last place I'd look, of course.' Spidey turned to a small desk up against the wall by the door, and in amongst other items of stationery, finally found some string. He hurriedly shoved it in with the rest of his acquired items, and then, as a thought struck him, paused and started to look through cupboards again, finding a couple more things he thought may be handy. 

Gathering it all together, he webbed the bundle up tightly, and made it into a large backpack; the best way to carry something and keep his arms free for wall-crawling. Turning off his signal light, he jumped for the ceiling, and upside-down, opened the door and exited as silently as a spider. He listened; he could hear nothing. Maybe Raxton had left? He crept along until he reached the stairs going up. He dropped down and cautiously climbed. Opening the door leading towards the lobby and entrance he stepped through, only to have his spider-sense flare.

Molten Man was there, and this time, he wasn't going to let him pass. 

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	4. Chapter 4

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A/N: How are we doing here, folks? Wrapped up warm and comfortable? Good, then we'll begin the next chapter…

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Chapter 4.

Ten minutes had passed. Mary-Jane was frantically racking her brains, trying to recall all the details from her pre-natal classes, everything she had ever read on the subject of labour and birth. Trying to recall everything she had purposely forgotten because of their painful associations. 

This couldn't be good… MJ sat on the floor, her hair flopping forwards, absently going through the contents of her purse once again, as if the answer were there. Amelia was half standing, half crouching, her arms draped over the elevator handrail and her head dropped onto her arms.

"Where _is_ he? Where, where, where…" MJ muttered. 

Honestly. She could tell that Pete wasn't comfortable with the situation either, but, dammit, he was supposed to be the hero, he was supposed to be the one who helped people, who helped put things to rights… MJ fished out a thin gold chain bracelet from the bottom of her purse. 'So that's where that went,' she thought subconsciously, while wondering what she could possibly do. 

There was a groan from Amelia. Mary-Jane immediately jumped up and went over. 

"What is it? Are you OK?" she asked.

Amelia didn't answer straight away; her eyes were closed and her teeth clenched tightly shut and she appeared to be straining. Then she opened her eyes and gasped. 

"A contraction. Different. Pushing…"

"Omigod."

It all came back to her now. Mary-Jane had forgotten this part. She had been so drugged up, she hadn't known what was going on herself, only that things weren't happening as they should. Peter had been missing then too…

How much longer did they have before the baby arrived now?

…………………………………………………………

Spider-Man was wondering the same thing. He didn't have the time or luxury to fight, especially someone like Molten Man. 

"Look Raxton, I dunno what's got you upset, but it's nothing to do with me, OK? This really is an emergency; there's a woman stuck upstairs in labour, and I…"

Raxton lunged, and Spidey twisted to the side. Damn, there wasn't much room to manoeuvre in this narrow stairway… Another punch aimed at him caught him a glancing blow, sending him hurtling back down the stairs. Spidey quickly morphed his fall into a couple of flips, and landed near the door of the room he had first discovered Raxton in. The bundle on his back was going to be a liability; he ditched it into the corner, intending to retrieve it later, after he had sorted out this mess.

Raxton came running down the stairs, his whole body glowing slightly. Spidey groaned to himself; Moltie was starting to 'fire up', which meant even more trouble for him. If he could only stop him before he got too hot to handle…

Creeping along the wall, Spider-Man's hands found something, a shape he recognised. Grabbing it, he yanked a fire extinguisher from its place; before Raxton could react, Spidey had released the catch and was enveloping him in foam. This made him angrier, but at least the golden surface of his skin had dimmed and returned to it's usual metallic state. He shook off the foam, and ran at Spider-Man, who threw the empty cylinder at him. 

__

'clang.' 

"Hey, you'd make a great clapper if the great bell at St Patrick's ever lost it's one!"

Thanking the dark and his spider-sense, Spidey was able to keep out of the reach of Raxton's blows; from experience he knew better than to try and return them - he didn't need a busted hand right now. 

"Keep still Moltie, I want to web you." He shot out a quick web-net and threw it over him.

"You don't learn, do you?" Raxton responded, as he shrugged the webbing off. "Your webbing won't stick to me, nothing can."

"Yeah, only your criminal convictions…"

Raxton made another lunge for Spidey, who leapt away, but a sudden change of direction by Raxton meant that Spidey received a blow to the side which sent him flying across the basement lobby and crashing into the wall between the two open doors. 

"Ooph!" He lay there a moment, winded and briused.

Raxton advanced on him, going by the sound of the crash. Spider-Man managed to recover in time to roll away from a kick that if it had connected, would have hurt. A lot.

One upshot of that kick was that now Moltie's leg was stuck; it had gone right through the wall, though the wood and brick debris wouldn't hold him for long. Spidey started spinning some extra thick webbing, knowing that it wouldn't hold Moltie for long either, but he had to try something. He had remembered something he had seen in the sick bay. It would be a long shot, but if it worked, he'd be able to get away.

Quickly bounding into the sick bay, Spidey frantically started searching through the glass fronted cupboards again, this time looking for a jar. He had turned on his signal for light - it was vitally important he found the right container. There, got it. He read the label again and shook the jar. 'I hope this is enough…' he thought. 

He turned his head as he heard a crashing noise, and Raxton entered the room. Still holding carefully on to the jar, he back-flipped over the bed and up against the far wall.

"Trapped!" exclaimed Raxton. "I can see you now too; you won't get out of here except in a pine box!" He tilted his head back and laughed.

"Sheesh, what is it about you Moltie - your disarming smile or your scintillating conversation? I'm entranced…" 

Spider-Man waited until Raxton had passed the foot of the bed, then threw the glass jar at him. It shattered on Raxton's chest and its contents flowed over his skin; down his torso and legs, splashing his face, arms and hands.

Too late Raxton threw up his hands; but lowered them again as he looked at the viscous liquid slowly running down his body.

"What is this crap? You're pathetic Spider-Man. This won't stop me getting to you."

"Perhaps not, but this might!" 

Darting to the side, Spidey lifted up and held the tank of oxygen under one arm while he turned the valve onto full and aimed the hose at Raxton. There was a hiss as the gas escaped. Raxton looked startled for a second, but then relaxed and laughed.

"You always were the joker, Spider-Man. I can't let you go though, you may tell someone I was here."

"Why _are_ you here?"

Spidey was playing for time; if Moltie was in the mood to talk now, he'd encourage it - until his improvised plan worked - if it did… 'C'mon, c'mon…' he thought, continuing to spray the oxygen over Raxton.

His opponent looked grim. 

"I've been the 'caretaker' here now for a while, hiding. As you may know, I was helping the government with some of their more secret experiments - attached to a special section of the military. Well, to cut a long story short, they stopped having me carry out research for them, and instead began using me as a test subject; only I wasn't supposed to know. But… I had become friendly - no, I fell in love with one of the scientists there. She-she felt the same, warned me. Shortly afterwards, she didn't come back to work. I was told she had been transferred to another division… Only…"

He hung his head.

"Hey Mark, that's rough. Y'know, the government and I haven't always seen eye to eye either, and…" Spidey didn't get to finish. Raxton had looked down at himself and in the light from Spider-Man's signal, had noticed something wrong.

"What the?"

Where the liquid had touched his skin was now a crusty dull white. As he watched, small bits of white began to flake away . He frowned and curiously used a finger to scrape at one of the patches, but quickly stopped in astonishment and… pain?

"What is it? What have you done to me?"

"I'm afraid your skin isn't as impervious as it was," Spidey answered. "That liquid I threw at you was a compound of mercury; mercury is one of the few substances that act as a catalyst between metal or metallic alloys, and oxygen."

Raxton looked shocked; as a chemist himself, he knew exactly what was happening now.

"You mean… I'm corroding!"

"Exactly." Spider-Man turned off the oxygen, but kept hold of the cylinder, waiting to see Raxton's reaction to the information, though his spider-sense was quiescent at present. 

"B-but," Raxton spluttered, "That's so basic, so simple! Why didn't anyone think of it before?" He looked totally gobsmacked.

"WAHOO! This is wonderful!!" he shouted. He jumped forward and gave a startled Spider-Man a hug. "Finally! I'm rid of this cursed skin! This is the _best_ Christmas present ever!"

"You're welcome - glad you like it."

Spider-Man broke into a grin under his mask, to see how happy Raxton was, but thought he'd better warn him. 

"The reaction will continue, but I don't know how far it will go or even if it will be permanent; I mean, do you have skin under that skin? Is it in your bloodstream? Or… You might consider taking yourself off to a hospital or something."

"Yeah, you're right." He gave a huge grin. "Anyways, I won't be a guinea-pig for those government twerps any longer!"

He went to go, then turned back to Spider-Man. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Remembering back to how Raxton became the Molten Man, how it was partly his fault anyway, Spidey replied, "No. No, nothing. Oh wait. Your last duty as caretaker - get the power restored."

"Will do. Well, in the future then. If you need help, I'll be around." And with that, he left.

'And I better do likewise,' thought Peter watching him go, 'MJ's going to kill me else! Heck, she'll probably still kill me, but at least I won't be as dead as I would be if I didn't hurry.'

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A/N: (insert the special announcer's voice here…) The penultimate chapter - and only four days to go until Christmas - will the last chapter be out in time? Be sure to read on…


	5. Chapter 5

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A/N: This is it! The final chapter! Merry Christmas Everybody!

(Sorry Spidermanfan, you won't like this chapter, but thanks very muchly for your reviews:-) )

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Chapter 5

There was a soft thud above her head, then a voice calling.

"Incoming!"

Mary-Jane jumped out of the way of the gap in the roof, just as a large, webbing-covered bundle dropped down, followed close behind by Spider-Man. His head immediately swivelled over to where Amelia was, tense and gripping onto the hand-railing. 

"How is she?" he asked.

"As far as I can tell, she's O.K, but I don't think it will be long now." MJ was crouched beside the bundle, trying to tear it open.

"Uh, P… Spider-Man?"

"Oh. Sorry." He tore the webbing off the blankets, and presented the items wrapped inside to MJ.

"Sheets, scissors, hot water, string, cotton swabs, antiseptic, kidney dish,… bunsen burner, spirits…" he listed as he handed them over.

"_Bunsen burner_? What the hell is that for? And what took you so long?" 

"For sterilising the scissors. And you'd never believe this, but I ran into old Raxton downstairs, and…"

"Let me guess; you stopped for a cup of tea and a chat."

"Make that mercury solution and a fight, and you got it."

"Typical. Always getting sidetracked. Did you…?"

They were interrupted by Amelia. "My God, you sound like an old married couple… You know each other then?" she said weakly, in a hiatus before her next contraction, peering at them over her shoulder.

Mary-Jane blushed, but Spidey said "Sure, Superheroes and super-models - we're like that, you know." He crossed his fingers in demonstration. 

MJ laughed, though she didn't really feel like laughing. Were they that transparent? Sure, it had been a while since they had been together, and a lot of things had happened, a lot of bad things, but how was it that in this situation it was as if they'd never been apart? She missed Peter more than she thought possible, but she was still so confused. This was Spider-Man here, not Peter. But they were the one and the same, weren't they? Spider-Man _was_ Peter. Peter _was_ Spider-Man. She shouldn't forget that. They were the same person. He was her husband, her love…

She came out of her blue funk to find Spidey ripping up the sheets.

"What are you _doing_?" 

"Huh? Is this a trick question? I'm ripping up the sheets; y'know, for diapers and swaddling - do they still swaddle babies? - and, uh, cleaning rags…"

MJ could hear the note of nervousness in his voice; she wished she could see his face, but she gave his arm a squeeze instead. 

There was a low groan from Amelia.

"I better go and check how she's going…" 

Mary-Jane felt a little queasy herself. She could see the top of the baby's head, the black hair wet and plastered under the covering membrane. Amelia was hissing with pain. Suddenly, a huge gush of water splashed all over the floor of the elevator, and MJ's boots. 

"Oh!" she exclaimed, jumping back. She stood for a second, feeling woozy, then unexpectedly, a fog enveloped her until all became black and she knew no more.

…………………………………………..

Peter had been occupied tearing up the sheets into manageable pieces, when Amelia's waters broke. He saw Mary-Jane step back, sway, and then start to fall in a dead faint. He caught her before she hit the ground, then lowered her gently into the corner of the elevator furtherest from Amelia, which given the size of the elevator, was not very. He quickly made sure she was lying comfortably, then went over to Amelia's side. 

"Looks like it's up to you and me now, kiddo," he said. "How _are_ you?"

Amelia panted. "It stings. I think the baby's coming…" She screwed up her face, and gripped onto the hand-rail again.

'What to do? What to do?' thought Spidey. He threw one of the larger bits of sheet on the floor below Amelia, then quickly peeled off his gloves and web-shooters; they would only get in the way. Of all the odd things to think about at this particular moment, he had flashing through his mind a scene of when he was a young boy, and Uncle Ben was trying to get him interested in sports, especially baseball. He had bought him a catcher's mitt in the hope he could actually catch the ball for once, but no such luck. Well, this was one catch he hoped he wouldn't fumble. 

The baby's head appeared; Spider-Man gently placed a hand under it, and then, when with another push, Amelia delivered the baby's shoulder and body all at once, he caught it with his other hand as well. He watched in wonderment, as the baby screwed up it's face, opened it's mouth, and let out a thin, small cry. 

Amelia half turned, looking tired and sweaty, but not noticing her tiredness. "What did I have?' she asked.

Spidey wrapped the pashmina around the baby, and handed it to Amelia, whose smile of pure joy hit him hard, much harder than the Molten Man had hit him earlier. 

"A boy, a beautiful boy." 

He felt all choked up as he helped Amelia and her newborn onto a folded-up blanket with a pillow to prop them up. Amelia cradled the baby to her chest, and she and her new son stared at each other, meeting, and getting to know each other for the first time.

Spidey turned his head, not that Amelia could see his tears - she was too involved with her baby, and besides, he was still wearing his mask. He almost felt it was redundant in such a moment - this was not the time for hidden faces.

He saw Mary-Jane had come to from her faint, and was sitting up, smiling at him. He moved over to her and sat down beside her, his arm over her shoulders in a loose embrace. 

"That was well done, Peter," she whispered. She lifted up the bottom of his mask, pulled it free from his mouth and kissed him, tasting the salt from his tears. She lowered his mask, placed her hands on his chest and looked up into the opaque eye-pieces. "I'm sorry I fainted at the critical moment, I can't believe I was so weak as to…"

"Hush." Spider-Man held her hands where they lay. "It can't have been easy for you, to go through all this after… after…"

"It's all right now." She looked over to where Amelia was reclined, head bowed over her son, her fingers delicately stroking the fine black hair covering the tiny head as he fed.

"In fact," she continued, "I think this has helped me to change… to adjust."

Spidey drew his breath, about to ask, but half afraid to, if this meant matters between them had also changed, when Amelia called out softly to them.

"Mary-Jane, Spider-Man, can you help me please?" 

Spidey leapt up and over to her side in one bound, frightened that something was wrong; MJ scrambled over only slightly more slowly.

With a twinkle in her eye, Amelia looked up at them. 

"I have a problem," she said. "I thought I was having a girl, and didn't have any name chosen for a boy. I want you to name him."

Spidey and MJ glanced at each other, floored by the request.

"N-name your son?" stuttered Spider-Man. He had no idea. What about her husband, wouldn't he want a say in the matter? He looked at MJ again. She had crouched down next to Amelia and was lightly touching the top of the baby's head with the tip of her finger. She smiled, one corner of her mouth turning up.

"I think you should call him… Peter."

Spidey was about to protest, when he realised that MJ had him in a bind - as Spider-Man, he had nothing to protest about. So he kept silent.

"Peter," Amelia repeated. She looked down at her newborn son. "What do you think of Peter?" she asked him. A small fist waved. Amelia smiled. "He likes it."

MJ got up and held Spidey's hand. They stood together not saying a word, but Spidey felt happier than he had for a very long time.

The emergency light dimmed, went out, then abruptly, the elevator lights came on. There was a small bump and a whoosh and the elevator started moving down. The three adults looked at each other.

"The power's back on!" Mary-Jane exclaimed. 

………………………………………………………..

"Well, what happened next?"

Aunt May was ensconced in her armchair, calmly knitting while listening to her nephew's narrative. The fire was throwing out heat and light and the Christmas tree set up in the corner had its own tiny lights to add to the room. The curtains were drawn against the cold and the dark, and on the couch opposite the fire, Peter and Mary-Jane sat, curled up against each other. 

Peter sighed, and took a sip from his hot toddy. It was a lovely feeling, being relaxed and happy. Aunt May seemed to be enjoying the tale.

"Mm, it turned out that Raxton had not only gotten the power restored, but had managed to get an ambulance there as well. When the elevator doors opened a couple of paramedics were there to help. Um… MJ can tell you the details - I wasn't there at that point."

"No, he'd cut out." She gave Peter a little cuddle. "I don't blame him - it got a little messy there for a while. But I bet he's upset because he didn't get to use his beloved bunsen burner after all that trouble…! I kept Amelia company to the hospital, and she and baby were doing just fine when I left. She's asked me to be a godmother!"

"Oh, that's so nice!" exclaimed Aunt May. 

Mary-Jane giggled. "She wants Petey to be god-spider. You know," she said, turning to Peter and watching his face, "I think she still believes we're married…"

"Well we are, aren't we?" Peter kept his face neutral; he didn't want to pressure MJ or get his hopes up too much, especially so close to Christmas, but she seemed pretty happy in his presence just at the moment.

"Of course we are, silly." She pinched his cheek.

Aunt May sat knitting, with a huge smile on her face, pretending she couldn't hear or see. Peter held his breath; he could see MJ was about to say something else. 

"I've… been thinking, Pete. About us. I-I understand more now, I've remembered why I married you and that hasn't changed. I've come to terms with…you, and who you are, but I've mostly come to terms with myself. Oh, this isn't coming out right! What I mean is - I've thought about things Peter, and I want us to be together again."

She looked at him expectantly. Peter looked back at her blankly for a second or two, still not quite registering what she had said. Then he did.

"MJ?" he said, touching her cheek tentatively, as if her face were made of porcelain. "Are you sure Mary-Jane?"

"Absolutely certain," she replied. And there was no doubting it.

"Oh, MJ!"

Peter cupped her cheek with his hand, and slowly kissed her, while his heart was swinging through the air and doing little back-flips of joy.

What seemed like hours later, or perhaps no time at all, they broke the kiss. Peter held her hand tight; he didn't want to ever let go of her again. He glanced over at Aunt May. She had two spots of high colour on her cheekbones, her eyes were sparkling, and she was grinning so hard that Peter thought she would possibly have a sore face tomorrow. He felt exactly the same, except he was sure his own grin was a lot more goofy. He looked again at Mary-Jane, and he had never seen her so beautiful.

"You are my most wonderful Christmas present yet," he told her. "I don't need anything else - you are enough to fill my heart and my dreams."

Mary-Jane lowered her long eyelashes, and when she looked up again, her eyes glittered with unshed tears, their brightness rivalling the lights on the tree. 

"Can I say 'me too'? Nothing else matters this Christmas; only you."

Then she gave a wicked grin, which showed up all her dimples, and whispered so that Aunt May couldn't hear, "Besides, I'm looking forward to unwrapping my Christmas present…"

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I hope you liked it - a happy ending for Peter for once…!


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